


Turn a Life Around

by kanoitrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Series, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three weeks into her second semester at Stanford that she notices him, and once she does, she's left wondering how it took that long. </p><p>The story of Sam Winchester and Jessica Moore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn a Life Around

**Author's Note:**

> I got into my Sam/Jess feels really bad one day, and this is the result. I really enjoyed writing, even if it broke my heart because of what happens. I hope you enjoy reading it though!
> 
> And thank you to pharocomics for being a fabulous beta who greatly helped in making this legible.

It's three weeks into her second semester at Stanford that she notices him, and once she does, she's left wondering how it took that long. First of all, he's gorgeous- all tall and sweet-faced and shaggy-haired- but that isn't what actually grabs her attention. He sits two rows back and three seats over from her front row spot, which may very well be how he escaped her notice for so long (though how she'd never seen him ambling in and out is beyond her). However, on this day, their professor is being particularly contentious, watching like a hawk for the slightest inkling that a student may not be paying attention, and then striking with a question well-beyond the parameters of what they're studying. He's already gotten several people, all of whom answered his near impossible questions wrong and were sent from the room. The display is even making Jess anxious, and she's the embodiment of perfect student.

When he snaps " _Winchester!_ " like it's a foul piece of fruit he must quickly expel from his mouth, she actually jumps, and can't help turning to see where his gaze has landed. She feels badly for the guy, all guilty puppy faced as he is, as their teacher throws the hardest question yet at him. Winchester (as she has no other name for him) furrows his brow in confusion before suddenly looking like a light bulb went off over his head, and he actually manages to answer the question correctly. It seems to throw their teacher for a loop, as he stands there sputtering for a moment. It doesn't actually help the foul mood any, but it seems to ensure Winchester's safety, at least, as she can't imagine the professor cares to be embarrassed like that again.

 _So, brains_ _ **and**_ _beauty._  And how had she not noticed him again?

But she spends so long staring, actually catching his eye (and he seems genuinely startled when she smiles at him), that it isn't long before the teacher is shouting her name. She isn't quite so lucky with her answer, and is promptly sent outside.

She decides to wait outside the classroom, wanting to intercept this "Winchester" fellow. Somehow, against all odds, she misses him. He's apparently not only brilliant and gorgeous, but a ninja as well.

For three weeks more, Jess tries to corner him to no avail. She almost gives up until one day towards the end of February. It's a disgusting day- pouring rain and colder than normal for California. She forgets her umbrella in her rush for class that morning, so when art history lets out, she finds herself standing at the door of the building and staring at the rain, wondering just how she's going to manage to get anywhere without first dying of pneumonia. It's also the day all her creepy, stalker behavior pays off.

She almost jumps out of her skin when someone sidles up next to her, asking, "You need help?"

She turns and looks up, up, up, only to find Winchester standing next to her, all shy smiles and nervous eyes. She is sure she feels her jaw hit the ground because damn! He's even  **more** attractive up close, and she didn't even think that was possible. She is gaping like a fish, and Winchester starts to fidget.

"Uh... do I- do I have something on my face?" he asks, and when she mutely shakes her head, still stupefied by the perfectness of the man in front of her, his face lights up a burning pink. "Sorry... Sorry, I thought... Never mind, it was stupid." He turns to run off, but Jess springs into action with quicker reflexes than she ever knew she had.

"Wait a minute!" she shouts, admittedly louder than necessary, but she has no time to be embarrassed. Important things are happening, and those require her attention way more than any silly sense of shame. She grabs his arm, and thankfully he stops because she definitely doesn't outmatch him in a test of strength. He could probably drag her all across campus if he wanted, and she'd much rather get brush burn from him for very different reasons. "I've been trying to talk to you for  **weeks**. What makes you think I'm just going to let you run off now?"

Winchester's face goes from pretty in pink to scarlet red. He refuses to meet her eyes, instead opting to look down at his shoes. "I... I wasn't sure. Sorry."

She smiles brightly, not that he can see it since he's too busy feigning interest in his shoes that are about ten miles down from his eyes, and lets her hand slide from his arm. "I'm Jessica Moore," she says confidently, thrusting her hand out towards him, underneath his gaze. He looks up at her, startled, and she gives him a soft and pretty smile. "My friends call me Jess." He stares down at her hand in confusion.

He continues his impression of a mime for about fifteen more seconds before Jess gets impatient and clears her throat. His attention snaps back up to her face. "Now's usually the time where you introduce yourself."

He jolts up, expression not dissimilar from that of a startled deer. "Right! Right! Sorry, I'm uh..." He's so uncoordinated, trying to gain control of his capabilities that he manages to drop his bookbag, contents spilling out across the tile floor. "Ah shit!" He drops down, scrambling to get his stuff back together, proving rather unsuccessful in his fit of nerves.

Jess kneels down to help him, and when their hands brush, Winchester suddenly stills, looking up at her in surprise. She offers him a comforting smile, and it seems to soothe him because then he's pointing that shy smile of his back at her. "Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Nice to meet you, Sam. And yeah, I could use some help."

Sam is kind enough to walk her to her dorm, both of them huddled under one umbrella as they trade small talk. It's still probably one of Jess's favorite conversations she's ever had. When they reach her building, she turns to thank him, adding, "You better not ignore me after this." Sam smiles good-naturedly, assuring her he won't.

They still don't sit next to each other in class, Jess refusing to give up her front row seat, while Sam prefers to sit a little closer to the back. She admits that's probably for the best;  _"Wouldn't want a whole row of people unable to see the board past your head."_  It has Sam laughing, and Jess decides that's her new angle- get Sam Winchester to laugh as much as possible. It's a sound she finds addicting, and when he later admits it's something he hasn't felt much like doing for quite some time, it fills her with equal parts sadness and pride because  **she**  is the one capable of giving him a reason to laugh,

They start eating lunch together, studying together, and when Sam admits he hasn't actually made any friends here other than her, they start hanging out with her friends together. He's painfully quiet the first couple of times, but her friends think the world of him (in no small part because Jess thinks the world of him and has made sure they all know it). Eventually, he starts to come out of his shell, little by little.

Their friends all tease them, asking just when are they going to start admitting they're  _in loooove_? It always makes Sam's ears turn that adorable shade of pink while he shuffles nervously. Jess just tells them all to shut up. Admittedly, she wouldn't mind at all if something like that did happen, but she values Sam as a friend just as much.

When finals roll around, they discuss what their plans are for summer. Jess will be staying on campus, renting a small, cheapo apartment that will probably end up being her home for the rest of her time at Stanford. She has no one to go home to over the break, being an only child raised by a single mom who passed away of breast cancer not long before she started college. While Sam is surprised to hear that, Jess is just as surprised to find out Sam won't be going anywhere either. He isn't close with his family anymore, according to him. She also about slaps him when she finds out he has no clue where he's going to be staying for the three months they're out of school, since his scholarship won't cover a place for him to live outside the dorms.

Jess informs him that he will be staying with her. They can take turns sleeping on the couch, and it's money she is planning on spending anyway.

"It'll be fun," she says, "like an extended sleepover."

When Sam stares at her, brow furrowed in contemplation, she gasps, scandalized.

"Don't tell me you've never been to a sleepover!"

Sam just shrugs helplessly.

Jess feels sorry for him, wondering just what kind of childhood Sam Winchester had that he's never been to a sleepover and has family he can't go home to. Instead of showing him pity, though, she just smiles broadly at him, bumping him with her shoulder. "Lucky for you, I'm the best there ever was at sleepovers! Can French braid your hair and everything."

When Sam smiles back at her, eyes full of gratitude for a million different things she's not sure should ever even warrant a such a blatant thanks, she feels about ten times as much sadness and pride than she's ever felt at making him laugh.

They move into a little hole in the wall apartment the week after finals.

"Well, it's not much," says Jess, hands on her hips as she surveys the sparse, little living room, "but it's home."

And when Sam beams at her in that way that she's come to understand means she has introduced yet another new concept to him, her heart breaks into a million little pieces. She doesn't ask, though, doesn't make a big deal of it. She just loops her arm through his, grins up at him, and says, "We'll have it fit for a king in no time!"

By the start of June, they've filled the tiny apartment with different odds-and-ends furniture that they've found through thrift stores, estate sales, and the occasional dumpster dive. Everything is mismatched, but they're both incredibly proud of their wonderful little something that they made out of nothing.

It's Jess's turn to sleep on couch, and she finds herself weighing the pros and cons of that considering their A/C is out (pro: the couch stays cooler than the bed; con: she can't open the windows in the living room because Sam's paranoid about someone climbing in through them since they face the front walkway outside). As she's lying awake, continuing her mental checklist, she starts to hear groaning come from the bedroom.

She blushes, thinking that maybe Sam is relieving a little bit of tension, and she curses the mental image because it makes  **her** want to relieve a little bit of tension, and it's just way too damn hot for that. After a moment, though, the groaning gets louder, sounding like Sam is almost in pain. A flash of worry jolts through her as she considers that maybe someone got into the room through the window they've left open in there. She's up like a bolt, grabbing an umbrella from beside the door, and she creeps into the bedroom.

All she finds is Sam, by himself and thrashing on the bed.

 _Night terror_ , she thinks sadly.

She calls out to him softly from the doorway, not daring to venture too close lest in his current state he think she's one of the things in his dreams that's hurting him.

He doesn't wake, and instead a sob breaks through. In that moment, she feels as though she may cry herself.

She calls out to him again, a little sharper this time, and he jerks awake with a loud gasp. He throws himself up and out of the bed, reaching for something that obviously isn't there, and stares at Jess unseeing, eyes filled with tears. When he finally comes to himself, he freezes, staring at her like a terrified child.

"Jess?" His voice is so quiet, so small, that she almost can't believe it belongs to him, and the way he says her name, so lost and alone, reaches into her chest and squeezes her heart until it's painful to breathe.

She smiles weakly at him, suddenly aware her own eyes are filled with tears. "Yeah, Sam. It's me."

He's trembling as he nods, obviously trying to shake off his fear and act like he's fine. Jess is having none of it.

She sets the umbrella against the dresser and walks up to him, stopping about three feet away. "May I?"

He stares at her helplessly for a moment, as though he doesn't know what she's asking permission for, and like a punch to the gut, she realizes that he really may not. She lifts her arms up in offering of a hug, but he just keeps staring at her in confusion.

She feels something ugly and angry flare up in her, and it burns hotter than the summer air outside. Sam Winchester, sweet, innocent, always well-meaning and considerate Sam Winchester, has never had someone offer to hold him after a nightmare.

"Screw it, Winchester. Someone's giving you a hug!" she says before wrapping her arms around him and guiding his head to her shoulder.

He stiffens in her grasp before burying his face in the crook of her neck and enveloping her in his arms. He cries silently against her shoulder, and she loses track of how long they stand there as she soothingly runs her fingers through his hair.

At some point, they crawl into the bed, Jess crawling in behind him, whispering soothing promises and reassurances to him and rubbing his back until his breathing finally evens out and he falls asleep. And even though it's way too hot to even be sharing the same bed, never mind cuddling, she curls herself around him, swearing to God that she will protect him with everything she has in her. She's sure if anyone were to see them like this, they'd probably find it quite the sight- tiny, blonde Jessica Moore playing the big spoon to the towering behemoth Sam Winchester's little spoon, but she couldn't care less because someone as genuinely good as Sam Winchester deserves someone who will watch over him for a change.

They never actually address what happened, but at some point it becomes a silent understanding that whenever Sam suffers from one of those dreams (though Jess thinks they must be something more than just dreams), he is to crawl into the bed with Jess without argument (or if she's on the couch, come and get her, and she'll crawl into the bed with him). Sam never abuses that privilege, though Jess sometimes finds she wishes he would, but he also takes full advantage of it when he needs to. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, Jess just holds him close and whispers reassurances to him.

It isn't until the Fourth of July that they finally admit they might be more than just friends. They go out to a park to watch fireworks be shot off, and it's a completely euphoric event. They've been mostly cooped up all summer, both too broke to actually go out and do anything fun, and while it's still just the two of them, Jess thinks that she can probably never get tired of Sam. He's become her best friend in the past few months, and she wouldn't mind if it's just the two of them for the rest of their lives. She ends up saying as much after a couple of beers. Sam stares at her, eyes wide and searching her face, like he's looking for any hint that she's lying or just had too much to drink. She keeps her expression open, wanting to offer up a safe place to moor the lost, little boy in front of her.

"What are you thinking?" she asks him, keeping her voice soft and quiet, not wanting to break the moment.

Sam stares at her silently, expression both open and guarded all at once, before answering, "That I don't know what I did to deserve you."

Jess wants to scoff because leave it to Sam to have crippling self-doubt when he's one of the best people she's ever met. Instead, she asks, "Want to know what I'm thinking?"

Sam nods.

"That I want to kiss you."

There's a slight intake of breathe, but otherwise he stays still, maintaining eye contact with her.

"I'm thinking that you're one of the greatest people I've ever met. That it kills me that you can't see that because you got the short end of the proverbial stick in life."

Sam clenches his jaw, eyes growing hurt and stormy.

"And I'm thinking that I want to punch all the people who have ever hurt you in the throat."

Sam laughs, finally breaking eye contact to shake his head in amusement at the thought of skinny, blonde Jess beating people up in the name of Sam Winchester's honor. Jess smiles at the sound.

Finally, he looks back up at her, expression open and happy. "Jess, may I?"

She stares at him in confusion for a moment before his eyes dart down to her mouth and then back up. She nods, hoping it doesn't come off too eager. "Always."

He leans in, chastely brushing his lips against hers, and it's so sweet and innocent that Jess feels like her heart may burst at any moment. He doesn't completely pull away, instead opting to just rest his forehead against hers and slide his hand into hers. They sit that way for a moment more until the crack of fireworks jolts them out of their personal, little world. They sit a little closer after that, hands still locked together and her head resting on his shoulder.

They sit in silence until Sam says conversationally, "My brother and I once set off fireworks in a field for the fourth."

Without moving, Jess asks, "Oh yeah?" It's the first Sam has ever spoken to her about his family, other than the brief discussion of him having nowhere to go home to for the summer. She doesn't want to spook him into backing off from the topic.

"Yeah. We ended up starting a fire. Dad was pissed"

Jess squeezes his hand reassuringly as he pauses.

A moment later, when he says, "Sure was fun, though," she can hear the smile in his voice.

When they go home that night, they fall into the bed together, kissing and laughing and so fucking happy that nothing else matters. They fall asleep curled around one another, and neither one of them ever sleeps on the couch again.

They spend the next month and a half in a state of bliss, growing to know each other more and more than they ever did before, and even though Sam doesn't talk too much about his life before Stanford, and even though Jess can tell there are holes in the stories he does tell her, she doesn't mind. She loves Sam for who he is now, not for who he was or what life did to him along the way.

When their friends all return for the new semester at the end of August, none of them are surprised to find that Sam and Jess have gotten together. Instead, the couple just has to field complaints of  _"How could you not tell us sooner!?"_  and weather the fact that apparently their friends have a betting pool going over just when it would happen.

Life is good for them, and Jess can't help thinking that they're the lucky ones. They offer each other support when life gets tough, and they celebrate with each other when they find victories, no matter how small. Over the years, Sam's night terrors happen less and less, until they pretty much stop all together. He tells her that it's all because of her, that he feels safe to fall asleep for the first time in his life because she's right there with him.

When Jess struggles with her decision to go into social work after her first day of internship, Sam is there to talk her through it, reminding her that he came to her broken into pieces, and if she could put him back together, she can do it for anyone, that she is more suited to a profession of helping people than anyone he's ever met before in his life.

And when Sam starts cracking under the pressure of applying to law school, Jess comforts him and reassures him that he's brilliant and that they'd be idiots for not accepting him.

 _Yep_ , she thinks one day as she opens the door to see him cooking in the kitchen of their small, one room apartment that they've made fit for a king,  _We're some of the lucky ones._

Towards the end of October in their senior year, Sam has one of his night terrors. It's the first one in well over six months, maybe even coming up on a year. This one seems to affect him more profoundly than any others he's had in the past, though.

When he wakes up, he clutches Jess, running his hands all over her, as if seeking assurance that she's real, that she's there. She tries to soothe him, tries every tactic she's ever had and then some, but he's inconsolable. She eventually just lets him cradle her and falls asleep, hoping he will manage the same.

He won't tell her what his dream was about, but there is a definite shift in his personality in the following days. He becomes protective, and while he's been protective in the past, it's never been overbearing like it is now. While she's out of his sight, he texts her every hour, on the hour, and calls her when she doesn't respond within five minutes. She tries to bear with it, to be patient, but when he starts calling their friends, asking them to keep tabs on her, she's had enough.

"Sam, it's been three days! You can't keep acting like this!"

"You don't understand, Jess!"

"Then tell me! I can't do anything about it if I don't know what you're so damn worried about!"

"I can't!" He storms to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

That night, she sleeps on the couch for the first time in years.

When she comes home from class the next day to see that Sam has poured all their salt in front of the windows and doors, it's the final straw. This time she's the one to storm into their bedroom, pulling out a duffel bag and throwing clothes in. Sam rushes in behind her.

"What are you doing!?"

"Getting out, Sam." She throws the clothes in with a single-minded determination, dancing around his attempts to reach out to her.

"Jess, you can't. You can't leave." It's the desperation in his voice that makes her stop, the utter fear coating every word.

"I can't stay if you're going to keep doing this. I can't. It isn't healthy." She's pleading with him too. Pleading for him to please let her in, just this once. She doesn't want to leave. God, she doesn't want to, but she will if she has to.

He makes to touch her, but restrains himself. "I just... Jess, I wish I could, but I can't."

Those are the words that break her heart. "Right." She hopes her bitterness stings him like it does her. She starts putting things in the bag again, calmer this time, more resigned.

He does touch her now, unsure at first, just his hand on her wrist. When that stills her progress, he presses himself fully against her, chest to her back, arms over hers, hands enveloping her own so that she drops the shirt she is holding.

"I wish I could, Jess. I wish I could more than anything." He sounds so damn sorry that it fucking hurts her to her core, like a literal knife stabbing into her heart. "But I can't."

"Sam..."

"But I'll tell you about the dream."

She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, steeling herself.

"You died. Just like my mom. Every detail was the same. When I woke up, I knew for sure you were gone too."

She feels tears slide down her cheeks as she squeezes her eyes closed tighter.

"I know I went overboard, and I'm so sorry. I just..." His voice cracks. "I just can't lose you like that." And then he's sobbing, face buried in her neck.

She manages to turn around in his grasp, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder as her own tears fall freely. They stand like that until the sun starts disappearing, crying for all the pain in Sam Winchester's life, all the pain Jess wishes she could have been there sooner to stop.

It's a few days later when Sam's brother shows up, and Jess has an immediate hatred for him. Dean has probably been the most highly spoken of as far as Sam's family goes, but she can't help resenting that he still allowed Sam to hurt at all. Rationally, she knows it isn't Dean's fault, he was just a child as well. And while her inner social worker aches for both Winchester brothers, Sam's pain hits too close to home for her to ever feel fully contrite over her dislike of Dean.

The next morning, when she wakes up alone in her and Sam's bed for the first time in years, she has a sick, nervous feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. As a distraction, she decides to clean the whole apartment top to bottom. It's then that she finds the little, velvet box tucked away in a corner of a drawer she never uses.

She doesn't open it, but resolves that when Sam comes back she'll remind him that there's nothing he could ask of her to which she wouldn't say yes.


End file.
